Colors

Freshmen had ten minutes to get their things together, and get to their second hour class. Sam and I went to our lockers (conveniently located right next to each other), gathered our things, and headed to choir.
We didn't work on anything, really. We spent the remainder of the hour 'getting to know each other', even though everyone knew each other, and talking about our summers. No one wanted to talk about our colors.

When the bell rang, we all left in a noisy blob. Some girls, including Sam, had their color classes next. It was a mixture between happiness and nervousness. One girl, Lizza Brent, was crying because she'd had to break up with her boyfriend after the assembly.
Sam wasn't sure who her new fiance was, but at our school there weren't many unattractive people, so she wasn't worried. She was shallow, didn't care about anything in a guy, as long as he was cute. That never bothered me, though. It was just how she was.
She hugged me as we parted ways, and I headed out to sculpture class.

I’ve wanted to be an artist for as long as I can remember, and I always loved my art teachers. Mrs. Brunswick was no exception. She reminded me of my mother, Trisha. We didn't waste time getting to know each other. Once the class was all settled she announced, "Okay, Everybody, find an inspiration from your childhood. Visualise it. Now, go get a slab of clay, some utensils, and make me proud to be your teacher. This will be worth 100 points, due at the end of the week." She looked at one of the students skeptically, "And please, make it unique."

I chose to make an abstract sculpture of Trish. I made her feet and head disproportionately large, and made her body unhealthily skinny. I worked fast, so mine would be the first in the kiln. With ten minutes left in the hour, I was finished with her feet, and one of her legs.

"Hello, Baybelle Vinsont-Lain." I jumped, and knocked off a skinny thigh. Mrs. Brunswick just stood there, looking triumphant.
"Yes?" I mumbled, reattaching mother’s thigh.
"Ms. Dismukes has told me a lot about you." She was still grinning violently, reminding me of the cheshire cat (Mrs. Dismukes was the middle school art teacher). She slapped her hand on my shoulder, "I think we're going to get along just fine." She winked, and skipped- literally skipped away just as the bell rang.
I put 'Mother' on the shelf, grabbed my books, and headed off to the color hall, which was on the second floor of the school. I was not looking forward to meeting my future husband.

Mitchall Harig walked up behind me, trying to be nonchalant, "Hey, Vinsont. Haven't seen you in a while." I ignored him, and kept walking. "Aw, come on, Freckles, I'm just trying to be nice!"
"Whatever." I mumbled, "I've got to go meet the poor, unfortunate soul that is to be my husband." He walked me to my room in silence, but when I started to open the door he grabbed my arm. "Woah, woah, woah there, Freckles. This is my room." He pointed to the sign above the door that read 'Yellow', as if I hadn't seen it.
"Crap!" We both cursed.
I held my hands up in surrender. "No. No, no, no, no, no! I will not marry you!"
Mitchall's eyes flashed evilly, then were coated in a fake innocence. "Oh come on, Freckles. I'm not that bad." He puffed out his bottom lip, pretending to pout- I could have laughed. That is, if I hadn’t been so repelled by the situation.
I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him into the room. "Oh, want to be alone?" He joked.
I slapped him across the face.
"First of all," I held up one finger in his face, "My name is Baybelle not Freckles. Second," I put up another finger, "I refuse to marry you. And third, I am out of here." I reached up to pat him on the head, and sat down on a couch nearby.
Mitchall came over, sat next to me, and wrapped me in a hug. I struggled to get out of his embrace, but he was too strong.

When I was done fighting him, he held me at arms length. He looked into my eyes. His were such an icy blue, they were practically entrancing.
"Look," He said, "I don't like this whole 'arranged marriage' thing any more than you do, but it's not like we have much of a choice. And as for getting out of here- You have to be at least eighteen. And even then, it's just as hard for women who aren’t married. You know as well as I do that women don’t have a lot of privileges around here.” It was true. Trish hadn’t even been able to keep her job as a surgeon because my father worked with the city government and it looked like she had too much power.
My eyes were overflowing with tears. Who knew that the same boy that picked on me, pulled my piggy-tales, and broke my arm in elementary school, actually had a heart?
"Mitch-"
"And hey," He took hold of my face, and made me look him in the eye. "At least until you're eighteen, we might as well give it a shot, right?" He winked, and took a pen and paper out of his bag. "So Freckles, what's your favorite color?"
I frowned at him. "Green."
He smiled, "Like your eyes.”

"So," Sam whined, "who is he?"
Sam and I had met up at lunch. She was just dying to tell me who her fiance was, but she wanted to know mine just as bad. Had she forgotten how crushed I still was about Timothy?
"I don’t see what the big deal is. Why don't you just tell me about your super sexy new boyfriend, and then I'll tell you about mine later." It was a compromise, and it was all the push she needed.
"Well, if you insist." She grinned, and looked around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. "I got Lizza Brent's totally scrumptious ex-boyfriend, Ian Jacobes!"
Nobody really knew Ian and Lizza's story. She was average. Five foot three inches, with badly died black hair, and a cheap spray on tan that made her look like a carrot. She had had zero personality, came from a low class family, and dull hazel eyes.
On the other hand Ian was six foot two inches of pure yummy. He'd had a six pack since the fifth grade, and was the running back for Grayson Middle school's junior league, and the varsity team for the high school. He had shoulder length brown hair, a perfect tan, and beautiful brown-gold eyes. He came from a high class family, and was all around drop-dead gorgeous. Sam surprised me by now mentioning any of that.

"He is such a sweetie!" She cooed, wearing that day-dream face that many girls at Grayson High had on that day.
“Oh, really?" I asked, sarcastically, which she obviously didn’t catch. "Tell me more."
"Well, when I walked through the door, he was already there. He didn't look too upset about the breakup. But when I walked in, he stood up, and pulled out a chair for me." She sighed, dreamily, "He's such a gentleman. How cute is that?
"Very."
"I know!" She squealed. "Did you know his favorite color is red?"
"Nope."
"He likes animals, too. He goes horseback riding every summer with his family. He said that he'd take me with him this year, ‘cause his dad owns the ranch."
"What color are you two love birds, anyway?" I inquired.
"Purple." She stated, still a whisper in her voice. "So, who's your man?"

Just then, Mitchall walked up behind her, came around, sat next to me, and gave me a big hug against my will. "Hey, Lover. What's up?" I jabbed my thumb at him.
"This jerk."
He stood up, and kissed the top of my head. "Oh, you're just saying that." He playfully strutted away, "Getting a napkin, sweetie!" He called over his shoulder.
"Thanks for the news flash, loser!" I yelled back.
"Oh. My. God." The impossible had occurred. Sam was speechless. "Was that-?"
"Mitchall Harig? Yes, I believe it was." I mused.
"Wow, how come you're not all over that?"
I looked over at Mitch. He was talking to some friends. With every movement his jaw made, his blonde curls bounced. This really was the first time I'd taken in his looks. Even from across the cafeteria, I could see his piercing blue eyes. "He's not my type."
He came over and sat next to me again.
"Hey, we were just gossiping about you!" I announced.
"Lovely." He stated, flatly. Somebody wasn't willing to play anymore. My mood died with his.
After he was done eating we walked to English class. I sat him down next to me, "Mitchall, look at me." He did, with anger in his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Not willing to talk about it right now, maybe later."

"Okay class, take out a book. We're reading all hour."
When the bell rang Mitchall hopped up, and rushed out the door, leaving me behind. We didn't have sixth or seventh hour together. I didn't see him until we got on the bus. He was sitting in the first seat. "Sit down, Freckles."
I did.
He grabbed my hand, but he didn't say a word.